


Take Two

by heyjupiter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter
Summary: When Tony Stark is injured in Afghanistan, he wakes up in captivity to find that a mysterious American doctor has plugged his heart into a car battery and saved his life. Tony is determined to repay the favor; when he escapes from the Ten Rings, he's taking Bruce Banner with him.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 185
Collections: Bruce Banner Bingo 2019, Lock Down Fest





	Take Two

**Author's Note:**

> This is set more or less parallel to the events of the first Iron Man movie, and contains a comparable level of PG-13 violence/torture. It also contains discussion of food and weight loss/gain.
> 
> This is for both Lockdown Fest and for the "napping together" square on my [Bruce Banner Bingo card](https://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/brucebingo). 
> 
> Thanks to both volunteerfd and xxx_cat_xxx for beta reading this! It takes a village.

When Tony awoke, his first thought was that the thing in his nose was really annoying. He reached up to remove it and had a quick follow-up thought, which was that his whole body hurt.

Then he felt a hand cover his and heard a soft voice say, "I know that feels weird but it's helping you breathe."

Tony turned to look and saw a thirty-something white man, wearing a brown suit and purple shirt that had definitely seen better days. He wore a loose off-white linen scarf around his neck and wire-frame glasses over his eyes. His eyes looked kind, but his face was worried. And the landscape behind him looked like a...cave?

Tony started breathing harder as he remembered—he'd been in Afghanistan, there'd been an explosion—and the man said, "Please, Mr. Stark, take deep breaths. You—you've been through a lot, and, I'm sorry, but they wouldn't give me any more pain medications for you—"

"Who are you? Who's they? Where are we? What happened?" Tony had more questions, but he paused for a hard-won breath.

"Uh. Well, my name's Bruce Banner, we're in Afghanistan. You survived an attack and they brought you here—"

"They?"

Bruce sighed. "They call themselves the Ten Rings. They're a terrorist organization. We're in their...compound, I guess."

Tony squinted. "Is it racial profiling if I say you don't really look like a terrorist? I mean, it's not just because you're white, but just your whole vibe. Not that terrifying."

Bruce let out a soft exhale that wasn't quite a laugh. "I'm not a member of the Ten Rings. I'm, well, I guess you'd say a hostage, only I don't think anybody wants me back. Not like you. I'm sure people are looking for _you_ ," he said matter-of-factly.

Right. People would be looking for him. Tony would undoubtedly be out of here in no time. He sat up on his cot and noticed the cord coming out of his chest. "What's this?"

"Oh, please don't touch that."

"What _is_ it?" His eyes followed the cord out. "Is this...am I plugged into a car battery?" Tony suddenly felt very aware of his pulse. Was his heart beating too fast? What was happening to him?

Bruce twisted his hands together. "I'm sorry, I did my best, I don't have access to very much medical equipment here."

Tony found himself wanting to reassure his anxious companion, though he still felt pretty unsettled himself. "Okay, well, I'm alive, so your best must be good enough. But what is it?"

"Well...there was a lot of shrapnel inside of you, and I did my best to remove it, but some of it—I mean, in these conditions—"

"Bruce, what _is_ it?"

"It's an electromagnet. It's keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart."

"Oh!" Tony craned his head to examine the piece in his chest. "Clever. So—"

Bruce started as the metal door to their cave slid open. He stood up and put his hands behind his head. He looked over at Tony and said, urgently, "Stand up and put your hands up."

"What?" Tony asked, as a group of men who looked much more like terrorists than Bruce did steamed into the room, holding guns. Stark weapons, which they were pointing at their two hostages. That detail really added insult to injury, and he was already pretty injured.

"Those are my guns! How did they get my guns?"

Bruce whispered, "Shh!"

One of the men started speaking in an unfamiliar language, maybe Arabic. Bruce responded in kind, and then in English said, "Your hands up, please! I spent too long trying to save you for you to die now."

With effort, Tony stood up and followed Bruce's lead. Bruce nervously translated as the head terrorist (or whatever) made his demand: he wanted Tony to build a Jericho missile for them.

"No. No way. Tell them I refuse," he told Bruce, but he sensed that the men had understood his vigorous headshake even before Bruce started to translate.

The men laughed and moved on to their next negotiation tactic, which didn't require Bruce to translate. Though faintly, when Tony’s head came up above the water, he thought he heard Bruce talking to them—pleading with them, maybe? Tony had already found it hard to breathe since awakening in the cave, but with his head in the water he thought he might actually asphyxiate. And that would be a real waste of all the work that Bruce had done to keep him alive. 

But finally they stopped their torture and dragged him out into the dazzling sunlight, where, to his horror, he saw a huge cache of Stark weapons. How had they gotten those? Those were supposed to be for American soldiers only. Like Rhodey...god, where was Rhodey? Was Rhodey okay? What about the other soldiers in his HumVee?

He was distracted from those thoughts by the feeling of a gun in his back and the sounds of Bruce quietly translating. "He says that they'll get everything you need to make a Jericho missile. He says to make a list of supplies. He says they'll let you go after you build it."

"No, they won't," Tony said.

"No, they won't," Bruce agreed softly.

Tony had felt sluggish upon first waking up but now he'd never been more awake. His mind whirred with possibilities. He could try just saying "no" again but he'd already gotten a painful experience of where that path led. But if they were offering to get materials...and odds were good that they didn't _really_ know what he needed...well, then he could work with that. He started listing materials, thinking quickly of what he might be able to get, and what he might be able to build. Bruce translated, and the terrorists immediately began producing things from various other caves.

Tony started taking inventory while Bruce trailed behind him. Tony turned his eyes on his fellow hostage. "Hey, how many languages do you speak?"

"Oh, uh, a handful. I'm not exactly fluent in Pashto but I was trying to learn it, uh, before. My Arabic's a bit better but only some of the men speak it. But I think my language skills have improved since...I've been here."

"A silver lining. So, you hear things, I bet. Seriously, how did they get all these weapons? _My_ weapons?"

"I'm not exactly privy to their shopping trips, but I assume they bought them on the black market."

Tony shook his head. "No, no way. That should be impossible. SI _exclusively_ sells to the US armed forces. They wouldn't...there's no way they'd re-sell my stuff."

Bruce shook his head with disbelief. "Clearly someone did."

Tony sighed. "All this stuff should be tagged with a chain of custody, it...it should only be in the hands of the good guys."

"Huh," Bruce said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"It's just...I've traveled around the world and seen Stark weapons everywhere. I just assumed that you only cared about your profit margins, no offense. It honestly never occurred to me that you were so...uh...blindly patriotic."

Tony started taking apart the casing of a smaller missile. "What?"

"I mean, you just unironically called the US armed forces 'the good guys.'"

"Aren't they?"

Bruce let out a long breath. "Never mind."

"Aren't you American?" 

"Yeah."

"And a doctor?"

"Yes. Twice over, actually, I did a dual MD/PhD."

"Wow. So you were what, Doctors Without Borders or something?"

"Ah, or something."

"And you've been here how long?"

Bruce squinted. "A year, maybe?"

"A _year_?" Tony frowned. "An American doctor being held hostage by a terrorist organization should have made the news."

"I told you, no one is looking for me."

"Jesus," Tony said. "What were you doing out here in the first place?"

"Oh, it's a long story."

"I think I have time to hear a long story. Seriously, how'd you get here?" 

Bruce sighed. "Well. I...did some postdoc research in a lab operated by the US Army. There was...an accident in the lab, that the Army wanted to cover up. Part of that cover-up would have involved covering _me_ up, which was not my preference, so...I made a run for it. I spent the last several years traveling the world, trying to stay off their radar, giving medical assistance when I could."

"So you came to Afghanistan?" Tony asked, a bit skeptically. Bruce was definitely leaving some details out of his "long story," but Tony had no way of knowing what. Could he even be sure that Bruce wasn't a plant? Maybe he was there to try to get Tony's trust, to get more information out of him.

"No, I came to India. My past caught up with me, and...mm, well, I wasn't personally brought to the bargaining table to hear how negotiations went, but I believe I was...traded to the Ten Rings. After the Army got what they wanted out of me."

" _Traded?_ Like a...you're saying the—the Army did that?"

Bruce shrugged. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but the US Army isn't all good guys."

"Well—but—" Tony exhaled. "Pass me those pliers."

Bruce obliged and watched Tony from beneath furrowed eyebrows. 

"What was your PhD in?" Tony asked.

"Huh?"

"Your PhD?"

"Oh. Uh, nuclear physics."

"Hm. Maybe you can help with this."

Bruce glanced at the security camera. "I—I'm not sure I want to make this missile, Mr. Stark."

"Okay, first of all, you gotta call me Tony. If what we've been through doesn't put us on a first name basis, I don't know what would."

"Fine. I don't want to make this missile, Tony."

"Second of all, I'm obviously not making this missile for them." He'd decided to trust Bruce. It was too horrible to think otherwise.

"Oh. So…"

"C'mon, keep up with me. I thought you worked for the Army."

"I did medical research for the Army on radiation resistance, not, not...whatever this is."

"For starters, I'm making an arc reactor."

"Oh! I read about that. But that's massive…"

"Well, I'm making a small one." Tony tapped his chest plate.

Bruce nodded slowly, a look of understanding dawning over his face. "That should keep you alive for a lot longer than the car battery."

"Yeah! Long enough to work on part two of my project. We're going to get out of here, okay? You and me."

"Hmm."

Tony kept working while he spoke. "Seriously, we'll get out of here and we'll get cheeseburgers."

"If you say so."

"Um, I _do_ say so. That doesn't sound good to you? Cheeseburgers and fries? God, I'd kill for a burger."

"I, uh, don't actually eat meat."

"What? Am I locked up with some kind of hippie?" Bruce laughed, an unexpectedly nice sound in the middle of this hellscape. "Okay, whatever, I'll eat the burger and you eat the fries. Yeah?"

"Sure."

"But until then, why don't you start stripping down these missiles? You've been watching what I've been doing?"

Bruce nodded and started working carefully on his task. Tony kept chatting away, as was his custom. Bruce listened and laughed when he made jokes, but always kept a nervous eye on the camera. They worked until Tony thought he might collapse.

Bruce said, "We should get some sleep. This'll be here tomorrow." Tony thought of the scope of the project ahead of him and thought, _And the next day, and the day after that…_.

"Right. Back to cave sweet cave. At least we have a short commute."

Bruce laughed, and they returned to the part of the cave that held their cots. Tony usually slept on his side, but with the chest plate he had to sleep on his back. He couldn't get comfortable on the shitty cot, and it was freezing. He was wearing all of the clothing he had, and his teeth were still chattering under his scratchy blanket.

"Bruce?" he whispered.

"Mm?"

"I—aren't you cold?"

"Yeah? Oh...but you're not used to it, and your circulation is going to be worse after your surgery. Um. If you want, we could, um, push our cots together."

"That's very forward. But yes, I'd love to go to bed with you, Bruce."

"I just meant—"

"I know what you meant. And yes, let's do that. Thank you." They pushed their cots together and layered their blankets over both of them. 

"Better?" Bruce asked.

"Much."

"You're still shivering. Here, take my scarf." Bruce handed over the piece of linen he wore around his neck, and Tony gratefully took it. Eventually, he managed to fall asleep. When he awoke in the morning, Bruce was already heating water for tea.

Tony walked over to place Bruce's scarf back around his neck. Bruce flinched and Tony took a closer look. Something shiny was peeking out from under Bruce's purple shirt. "What's this?"

"Oh, um—"

"It's a _collar_." He ran his finger around the metal device but there was no obvious opening mechanism.

" _Don't!_ " Bruce said sharply. He put down the kettle and stepped back.

"What did they put on you? Some kind of bomb? Whose tech is this?" 

They heard the metal door rattle and Bruce immediately stepped back and put his hands up. "Hands up," he hissed at Tony, who hurried to obey.

A couple of goons descended on Bruce, checking out the thing around his neck and speaking to him in rapid-fire Arabic (or whatever). Bruce made some reply. The men glanced at Tony, glared. One of them casually backhanded Bruce across the face, knocking him to the ground, and then they left without so much as a glance back.

Bruce stumbled to his feet, adjusted his glasses, and finished making tea.

"Bruce, I'm sorry. What was that about?"

Bruce shook his head. "They're still watching on the camera, you know, and they just—just don't touch this thing, okay? Just forget about it."

"Okay. Okay, if that's what you want." Tony knew he couldn't forget about it, but he could leave it alone for the time being. He didn't want to be the reason Bruce got hurt. 

Bruce snorted. "What I _want_ is to be lying on a beach somewhere far away from all these weapons, but I don't always get what I want."

"You will. We'll get out of here, and we can just lay on the beach and eat French fries all day," Tony promised.

Bruce gave a faint smile, and Tony continued, "What are you thinking? Steak fries or skinny? Seasoned or plain? Ketchup? Vinegar? Don't tell me you're a mayo guy. C'mon, doesn't talking about this make this taste better? What is this, like, gruel? Like Dickensian gruel?"

He kept up a running commentary while Bruce looked on with wary amusement. They passed days and then weeks in that fashion. During the day, they kept up a mostly-one-sided chat about frivolities while they worked on the plan that would be their salvation, and at night they huddled together to stay warm in the mountain cave. Bruce had managed to request some extra clothing for Tony, but it was still freezing. And anyway, the human contact was reassuring.

Between the two of them, Tony did the majority of the talking, but every now and again Bruce would quietly reveal something about himself. He was from Ohio; hadn't grown up with much money; only child; orphan. Without being told directly, Tony also learned that Bruce was kind, and smart, and had a dry sense of humor and very steady hands. Bruce was gentle and clinical when he checked Tony's torso for infection, and matter-of-fact when he dispensed the cough medicine he'd somehow convinced the Ten Rings to give him for Tony. Tony could have done much worse for companions in captivity.

One day, near the end of their work day, a single man came into their work area. He gave a cursory glance at their project, shrugged, and then began having an intense whispered conversation with Bruce, who listened, nodded, and offered a few statements in response. Finally, the man hissed something at Bruce and shoved him. Not hard, but just enough to rock Bruce on his heels. Bruce sighed and returned to work.

"What was that about?" Tony asked.

"One of his kids is sick."

"So?"

"So I'm a doctor, I told him what medicine he should get."

"Huh. You helped him?"

"I'm the only doctor around here. And it's not the kid's fault their dad is...this."

"I guess you're right about that," Tony mused.

A few days later, the same man came back in, mumbled something to Bruce, and handed him something wrapped in a scrap of cloth. Bruce nodded and put it in his pocket.

"What was _that_ about?" Tony asked.

"His kid got better."

That night, after they ate their meager dinner, Bruce pulled the mystery object out of his pocket. He broke it in half and gave a piece to Tony.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

"It's called gosh-e fll. It's a pastry."

"You saved his kid's life and he gave you a cookie?" Tony scrunched up his face with disdain, but he took a bite of the pastry. It was pretty good for having been in someone's pocket all day, though he probably would have eaten cardboard with similar enthusiasm at that point.

"I don't think he has much else to give." Bruce took a thoughtful bite. "You know, all his other kids are already dead. Missile strikes."

"So—so what, that justifies _this_?" Tony asked, waving an arm around their cave.

"No, of course not," Bruce said. "It's just…" he trailed off and shrugged.

"It's not _my_ fault," Tony said. Suddenly the pastry didn't taste so good.

"Tony, I didn't say it was."

"But were they American missiles? _Stark_ missiles?"

Bruce gave Tony a sympathetic look and a shrug, which didn't mean "no."

Tony thought back to the terrorist's desperate face. In all the time he spent designing weapons, he only imagined them being used on _bad guys_. Had his weapons been used to kill children? The whole point of his more precise weapons was to avoid civilian casualties. For someone who prided himself on his intelligence, Tony felt pretty stupid. He asked, "Have...have all these guys lost someone like that? Children?"

"I don't know. They're not all as chatty as Amir."

But from Bruce's tone, Tony suspected that there were others. "Jesus. I never...I never wanted that to happen."

Bruce just nodded and ate his pastry. Tony remembered, weeks ago, when Bruce had accused Tony of "blind patriotism." Maybe Bruce had been right?

Tony said, "When we get out of here, I'm going to make this right."

Bruce smiled at him and said, "Then finish eating your gosh-e fil. You'll need to keep your strength up."

Tony smiled back and finished eating the treat. "That was good, but when we get out of here, we'll get ice cream sundaes. With hot fudge, and whipped cream, and sprinkles...not like, a lot of sprinkles, because I don't really like how they taste, but just a few, for fun…"

He kept describing desserts until he heard Bruce's breath steady out into sleep.

One day, as their project neared completion, a group of Ten Rings men came to check on their progress. This was rare, but it happened occasionally. They'd look over the work table, hassle Bruce a little bit, and move on. But there was a new man with them, one who spoke English. One who seemed a bit less stupid than the usual men.

He studied their dummy missile as well as the rest of their project. "This doesn't look like a Jericho missile."

The man narrowed his eyes and grabbed Bruce, shoving him to his knees. Bruce went limp but he kept his voice steady as he insisted that they were building the missile. Tony watched and felt his chest grow tight with fear for Bruce as the men threatened him with a red-hot coal. 

"Stop. Stop! I need him," Tony said.

The man turned to look at him. Tony said, "I can't finish the missile by myself. I need him. To be my assistant."

The man growled, "You have one more day. I need the missile by tomorrow or there will be dire consequences."

"We will! We will," Tony promised, forcing more bravado into his voice. "Now let us work."

Bruce, pale but unharmed, stumbled to his feet and back to their work area. "You okay?" Tony asked.

Bruce nodded and got back to work. After a long stretch of silence, he said, "Hey, Tony? You remember the, uh, thing around my neck? No, don't look at me, keep welding, they're still watching on the camera."

"Of course I remember." Bruce had continued to lend his scarf to Tony while refusing to comment on what was underneath it. But Tony hated the idea of it, of Bruce having to wear something like that. Even if it didn't have some harmful purpose—which Tony was pretty sure it did—it was a humiliating accessory.

"Tomorrow, when—when you put on the suit...cut it off me, okay?"

Tony cast his eyes sideways to study Bruce's solemn face. "What will it do?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"Is it going to hurt you?" Tony hadn't been able to get a good look at the collar Bruce wore, but it had definitely seemed more high tech than just a plain band. He worried it was rigged to explode if tampered with. Otherwise, why would the Ten Rings goons have been so freaked out when Tony had touched it?

"No," Bruce said quickly.

"You sure? I don't need some kind of self-sacrificial play from you. We'll get out of here alive. Both of us."

"I know. It's not. Just cut it off me. Okay?"

"Bruce, what's going to happen? I won't blindly promise this."

Bruce sighed. "I—remember how I told you there was an accident in the Army lab where I was working?"

"Yeah…"

"It, um, left me with...some changes. On a molecular level. The, um, collar, suppresses those changes. It won't hurt me if you take it off. But it will let me change. It'll help us both."

"What kind of changes?"

"It's hard to explain. You'll see tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," Tony agreed. Bruce seemed embarrassed, but truthful. Tony was at least pretty sure he wouldn't kill his friend by cutting off his collar. He looked forward to freeing him. And he had too much work to do to keep nagging Bruce about something he didn't want to talk about.

They didn't go to sleep, working through the night to finish the armor. In the morning they were both tired, but exhilarated.

Tony put the finishing touches on his armor and said, "Okay, let's get that thing off you."

Bruce shook his head. "No, not yet, after the armor is online. And, Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever...whatever comes next, please don't let the Army get their hands on me, okay?"

"Uh—yeah, okay, Bruce." Tony was pretty sure that the Air Force was their best hope for rescue, but he'd figure that out later. 

"I'm serious, Tony, I'd rather die."

"You're not going to die."

Bruce gave him a solemn look and said, "You're probably right. Um, I should tell you also...if...don't take me to a hospital, either. I'll heal. Without the collar, I'll heal, okay? No matter what happens. Promise me."

Tony swallowed. He really wasn't sure what Bruce was talking about, but he said, "Okay, let's get this party started."

"Promise me!"

"Fine, jeez, I promise."

They knocked the camera offline and Bruce helped him assemble the armor. "Thanks. Tony, uh, obviously the circumstances are terrible, but...I'm glad I got to know you."

Tony grinned. Right before he put on the helmet, he leaned forward and gave Bruce a quick kiss on the cheek. "You, too." 

Bruce turned bright red and started typing away at the computer to finish bringing the armor online. "They're coming, I think they've figured out that this isn't the missile…do it now, Tony!" He pulled off his scarf and held open his shirt, revealing the gleaming metal collar. Tony aimed a precise laser at the collar. It glowed and cracked and fell off of Bruce's throat.

Immediately, Bruce began to turn green and grow. Ten Rings goons rushed toward them, firing as they ran. Bruce ran toward them with an inhuman scream. Tony watched with horror, and then with awe as the bullets bounced off of Bruce. He followed behind his suddenly huge friend as they fought their way out of the cave.

Tony wondered why they'd bothered to build the armor at all, if Bruce could do all this. But then, as bullets pinged off his armor, he realized that Bruce probably couldn't have protected him against so many armed terrorists. Still, when they got through this, he had a _lot_ of questions for his friend. 

After a blur of violence, they got free from the cave that had been their home for the last three months (or longer, in Bruce's case). Tony took stock: his unwieldy armor was damaged to the point of uselessness, and anyway, no one was shooting at them anymore. He pried it off of himself while Bruce—still big and green, not to mention completely, upsettingly nude—watched closely.

"Bruce! Ca—" he started to say.

Bruce snarled, "Not puny Banner! Hulk!"

Tony blinked. "Your name is Hulk?"

"Hulk!" Bruce pounded his enormous chest, bringing to mind King Kong.

"Uh...okay, Hulk. Any chance you know when, uh, your skinny friend might come back?"

Bruce—Hulk—just growled. Tony wondered if Bruce was like this all the time without that collar. It was an unsettling thought that he decided to worry about sometime when they weren't in the middle of the desert. Tony took a deep breath and said, "Okay, well, nice to meet you. Let's get out of here."

Hulk grunted in agreement and the two of them began trudging through the desert. Tony immediately found it hard to keep up with Hulk's big strides. Tony was exhausted, malnourished, and had definitely sustained some injuries in their escape. Before long, Hulk stopped, turned around, and picked Tony up in a surprisingly gentle bridal carry.

"Hey," Tony said.

"Stark weak. Hulk carry."

"I'm not weak, I'm just…" but Hulk was already moving along at a rapid pace, much faster than he'd been walking with Tony trailing behind him. "Okay, uh, thanks, Hulk."

Tony drifted off in Hulk's arms, but Hulk kept moving. Tony had no sense of how far they'd gone or how much time had passed when the sounds of a helicopter reached his ears. He blinked his eyes open and grinned. "We're safe!"

"Safe?"

"Friends. They're friends." Hulk seemed to have a much more limited vocabulary than Bruce did, but he should know _friend_. "Put me down," Tony said, but Hulk held on to him and cautiously headed toward the helicopter. Relief flooded Tony's body when Rhodey hopped out and started running toward them.

"Friend?" Hulk asked.

"Friend." Tony agreed. Then, suddenly aware of what this would look like, he called out, "Rhodey, I'm okay, he's a friend, don't shoot!"

Rhodey got up close to them and said, "Tony, what the _hell_."

Hulk repeated, "Friend?"

"Friend," Tony assured him. "Rhodey, say it."

"Uh...friend."

Hulk nodded. Then he gently handed Tony to Rhodey. It was awkward, and Tony ended up mostly leaning against Rhodey to stay upright. As soon as Hulk's arms were empty, he pitched forward into the sand and began to shrink back into Bruce.

"Thank god," Tony muttered at the sight of the thin, pale man lying facedown on the ground. His shoulders rose and fell with his breath.

"Tony, seriously, it's good to see you, but I repeat: what the hell?"

"Rhodey, it's a long story, but please, trust me, this guy saved my life, we have to help him."

"Okay, why not," Rhodey agreed. "Can you stand?"

"Yes."

Rhodey made sure Tony was steady on his feet, then he bent down to pick up Bruce. "It's a good thing he's skinny now," Rhodey muttered as he awkwardly hefted Bruce over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Tony removed the dirty shirt he'd wrapped around his head and used it to protect Bruce's modesty as best he could.

"Um, also, please don't tell anyone else about Bruce."

"This is Bruce?"

"This is Bruce."

"Is he gonna turn big and green again?"

"I actually have no idea."

"Okay. Sure. Why would you?" Rhodey took a deep breath before continuing. "Uh...okay, let's just get back to base and get this all sorted out." 

Rhodey wrapped Bruce in a crinkly silver emergency blanket and rested him across a row of seats on the helicopter. Tony kept a close eye on Bruce while gulping the canteen Rhodey had given him, but Bruce stayed out. 

When they landed on base and the helicopter fell silent, Rhodey said, "Let's get you two to medical."

Tony shook his head. 

"Tones, don't be an idiot. Look at you. What's that thing in your chest?"

"No, I mean—I'll go, but…Bruce told me to keep him off the radar. He said no doctors. He said he'd be fine."

They both eyed the gaunt, blanket-wrapped lump and Rhodey said, "Yeah, he definitely looks fine."

"Please, Rhodey, can't you just stick him in your office or something? And off the record, see what kind of information you can dig up about him? His name is Bruce Banner, he said he used to work for the Army but..."

Rhodey's eyes widened. "Bruce Banner? Are you sure?"

"Yeah? I mean, I didn't card him, but that's what he said."

"Bruce Banner did work for the Army, but he died a few years ago."

Tony looked back at Bruce. "Well, I don't think it stuck."

"Right. Okay. Let's get you taken care of and I'll, uh, check back on him later."

"Seriously, Rhodey, he made me promise so I'm making you promise. Don't let anybody in the military know he's here."

" _I'm_ in the military."

"You know what I mean."

Rhodey sighed. "Yeah, okay." He pulled Tony into a hug. It made Tony's injured shoulder ache more, but he held on to Rhodey anyway. "Now let's get you into a shower, because you smell even worse than our dorm room used to."

Tony rolled his eyes, but it was undeniably great to see Rhodey again. He was grateful for the warm shower, the clean clothes, and the food (though it wasn't the burger and ice cream of his dreams). The pain meds a medic gave him after cleaning Tony's wounds and promising to sign an NDA about the proprietary tech in Tony's chest were a pretty nice cherry on top. 

But he was worried about Bruce, and he felt much better when Rhodey led him back to the private hospital room he'd commandeered for Bruce. Rhodey had dressed Bruce in USAF sweats and cleaned him up a bit. Bruce showed no signs at all of bullet wounds or any physical injuries, but he was still down for the count.

"You sure you don't want a medic to look at him?" Rhodey asked.

"I mean, he's still breathing...no, he was very clear about it. Did you find anything about him? Can you help me get him home? Off the radar?"

Rhodey sighed. "Yeah, I can do that. And...yeah, I found something. I think you're probably right." 

Tony sat down on a chair and Rhodey handed him a laptop. Tony read Bruce's obituary, complete with a photo of a man who was definitely a younger, cleaner version of the man who'd spent the last three months by Tony's side. He'd left behind no relatives and had apparently died in an accident at a US Army research facility four years ago. General Thaddeus Ross had issued a bland statement regretting the loss of life in the pursuit of knowledge.

"But—"

"I know," Rhodey said grimly. "Go to the next page. I had to dig deep to find those, and I think I just scratched the surface. Your friend's been in some deep shit."

Tony frowned as he read a report of the "cleanup" efforts after Banner's accident, of General Ross's hunt for him and the results of the "experiments" Ross conducted once he'd caught Bruce. 

"Oh god," Tony said, and he folded the laptop shut before reaching the end of the report, feeling sick to his stomach.

Rhodey nodded. "It's pretty rough stuff. But, uh, look, the longer we stay here, the harder it's going to be to keep him hidden. And from what I've read, it sounds like he...transforms...under stress."

Tony nodded. "So…"

"So...given that air travel might be considered stressful...I think we should plan on keeping him sedated for the trip back. For everybody's safety."

Rhodey spoke like he expected Tony to protest, but Tony was just happy that Rhodey had agreed to what Tony knew was a pretty big ask. "Honestly, that's my preferred way to travel anyway. See if you can get me some Ambien for the flight so I can join him, huh?"

"Okay. I'll take care of it. But, Tony...what are you going to do with him when you get home?"

Tony shrugged with his un-injured shoulder. "I'll figure something out. I'm sure he'll help once he wakes up."

Rhodey sighed. "I can't believe you made a friend in captivity."

"How else was I supposed to pass the time?"

Rhodey shook his head fondly. He made the arrangements and before long, he brought Tony and Bruce on board their flight home. Rhodey put Bruce in the cargo hold but assured Tony that he'd be comfortable and secure there, and Tony had to agree because what else could he do?

And when they touched down in California, Rhodey faithfully carried out the rest of his plan—he swept Bruce away to Tony's Malibu home while Tony drew the public eye to himself, with his cheeseburger and impromptu press conference. He debated delaying the press conference, but he wanted to act quickly. He couldn't in good conscience keep manufacturing weapons for another second.

On their way home from the press conference, Tony bantered with Pepper—god, he'd missed her—and filled her in on his covert new houseguest.

"Tony, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"He saved my life, Pepper, what am I supposed to do, give him back to the people who wanted him dead?"

"Well, no, but...how do you know what he told you is true? What if he's some kind of dangerous criminal?"

"No. No, he's not, and Rhodey found some secret government files, and what they did…" Tony trailed off. "I have to protect him."

"So...long term, your plans are…?"

"I don't know! We'll figure something out." He studied Pepper's face closely. "You'll help, right? You're not going to—"

"No, of course, you can trust me, whatever you need. Always."

He exhaled. "Thank you, Pepper." He really didn't know what he'd done to deserve an employee like her.

Back home, Tony took his Burger King bag and hurried to his bedroom, where Rhodey was sitting next to Bruce’s bed, working on his laptop.

"How'd it go?" Rhodey asked.

"I actually don't remember what I said but I guess it worked," Tony said with a shrug. "Rhodey, thank you for—for everything. He didn't wake up?"

"Not yet, but the drugs should be wearing off soon. You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Great."

Rhodey eyed him for a moment and then shut his laptop. "Okay, well, I gotta go debrief...but call if you need anything, okay?"

"Thanks, Rhodey.

Tony gave Rhodey a hug, then took his spot by the bed. He read up about himself and his company and he didn't love the things he was reading. He usually just read whatever news Pepper passed on to him, but now he was diving into liberal publications that he knew would oppose the quote-unquote "military-industrial complex," and he had to admit that they were raising some good points. His company—his products—he, himself—had caused real harm in the world and he'd been too pleased with himself to ever notice. 

But that changed now. Tony was itching to get down to his garage and start fixing things right away, but he didn't want Bruce to wake up alone in a strange place. Bruce had been there for him when he'd awoken in the cave.

Finally, Bruce started to stir. His eyelashes fluttered and he fixed his eyes on Tony.

Tony smiled at him. "Bruce! Hey, we did it. We're safe. Are you okay? Are you hungry? Look, I got you French fries, but they're cold now. But we can get more. Or I can heat these up. I'm babbling, could you say something please?"

Bruce offered the faintest smile. With a hoarse voice he croaked out, "Hi."

"Oh, water, right. Sorry, I'm a bad nurse...I didn't go to medical school." He handed Bruce a bottle of water from the nightstand and Bruce gulped it all down.

"Where are we?" Bruce asked, his voice sounding slightly stronger.

"My house in Malibu. My bedroom, actually, it was just the most secure place. Nobody can get in here without the passcode."

Bruce nodded and sized up Tony. "And—and you're okay? It...it worked?" Bruce brought a hand up to the collar of his T-shirt and absently stroked his throat with his thumb. "I don't remember how we got here."

"It's been a long day. Do you want food? We can go heat up these fries, or get something else...I can give you a tour of the house? Do you want a shower?"

Bruce's eyes started to glaze over, and Tony said, "Okay. Food first. I'll be right back." He took the bag of cold fries and left before Bruce could respond, and he returned with some slightly-soggy microwaved fries and a pre-bought fruit salad he'd found in the fridge. Bruce devoured the food and then asked for a bathroom.

When Bruce swung his legs out from under the duvet to get out of bed, he looked down at his thighs and then looked up at Tony with rage in his eyes. "Tony, I _trusted_ you," he growled. "I—" he started breathing harder and looking around the room.

"Bruce, what?" And then Tony looked down at the USAF-branded sweatpants Bruce was still wearing. "Oh, Bruce, hey, nobody in the Army knows where you are. I just got some help from my best friend Rhodey, he's in the Air Force but we can trust him. I trust him with my life. With your life too." Tony leaned in and put a hand on Bruce's, but Bruce flinched and pulled his hand back. Tony remembered that Bruce's alter ego was apparently brought on by stress and he tried to make his voice soothing as he said, "Bruce, c'mon, you were passed out for like fifteen hours. If I was going to give you to the Army, don't you think I would have done it already?"

Bruce's breathing started to slow down, but he still looked at Tony warily.

"Bruce, I would never. Rhodey helped me get you home, completely off the record. You were, um, in cargo. Nobody knows. And Rhodey, he dug up some files. About what happened to you. He—he was horrified. Rhodey wouldn't do anything like that, to anyone, ever. I swear."

Bruce swallowed and nodded slowly. No sign of green. "Okay. Okay. Sorry...I just…"

"No, I get it. After what you've been through. But you're safe now! Uh...and we'll get you some fresh clothes." Tony walked Bruce to his suite's large bathroom and pulled out a clean towel and bathrobe for him.

"Thanks, Tony."

"Of course. Help yourself to whatever's in there. Let me know if you need anything."

Bruce nodded quietly, his eyes still wide in his thin face. Tony went out into the bedroom and got back on his computer, reading through article after article about how the Merchant of Death had gotten what he deserved. He closed the laptop and made himself useful looking for clothes for Bruce. Tony had lost some weight in Afghanistan but Bruce was a rail; he found some drawstring track pants that would work for now and texted Pepper to ask her to get some smaller clothes.

Bruce spent a long time in the bathroom. Tony wondered how long it had been since Bruce had had a real shower. Finally, Bruce stumbled out into the bedroom on shaky legs, the bathrobe wrapped tightly around him. Tony gave him a fresh outfit and politely turned his back while Bruce changed clothes.

"Thanks...sorry."

Tony laughed. "You're welcome. And sorry for what?"

"For—if I scared you?"

Tony shook his head. "Not at all. I'm glad you're okay. Now...you wanna come see my toys?" He noticed Bruce had his arms wrapped around himself. "You cold?"

"I'm fine."

Tony sighed and grabbed an MIT hoodie for Bruce. "I can get you anything you need, Bruce, just say the word."

Bruce pulled on the sweatshirt and nodded. Tony said, "C'mon, let me show you around." He led Bruce around the house. "See? No neighbors except the ocean. Completely private. JARVIS can control the window tints."

"JARVIS?"

"Oh, he's the AI who runs things around here. J, this is Bruce, give him a security clearance and help him with anything he needs."

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Banner. Please do let me know how I may be of assistance."

Bruce glanced around and nodded. "Thanks, um, JARVIS."

"Anyway, kitchen...stocked, help yourself to whatever you want, or ask JARVIS if you don't see it, he can get anything delivered."

Bruce was mostly quiet as Tony showed off his estate. Finally, Tony said, "Sorry, are you...do you need to rest? You can have your pick of the guest rooms."

"Oh...no, just, uh, thinking…"

"What's on your mind?"

"Just, it's a really nice house, but, I...I can't stay here."

"What are you talking about? Why not?"

Bruce shook his head. "It just isn't safe."

"I have excellent security protocols in place."

Bruce crossed his arms and shrank in on himself.

Tony said, "I mean, I won't keep you here against your will, obviously, there's been enough of that, if there's somewhere you'd rather be. But I thought you...uh… _is_ there somewhere you'd rather be?"

His voice small, Bruce said, "No."

"Perfect! Because I'd rather have you here than anywhere else."

"But, Tony, you saw...you know what I am."

Tony was genuinely confused for a moment before remembering, "Oh, your big green alter ego? Yeah, what is his deal?"

Bruce let out a disbelieving little laugh. "You're not...afraid?"

"Brucie! Your, uh, Hulk, saved me. And _you_ saved me. I could never be afraid of you. And I _promise_ you'll be safe here. Please, stay here with me, for a while at least."

"I...I guess I could."

Tony beamed and threw his arms around Bruce. Bruce held very still until Tony let go of him. Tony cleared his throat and said, "Anyway. You hungry? You wanna work? You wanna sleep?"

"I, uh…"

"Let's work. You just woke up. Right?"

"Okay." 

Tony happily showed off his garage workshop and got to work building an even better arc reactor. Bruce was quiet, but engaged with the work. JARVIS announced, "Excuse me, sirs, but Miss Potts suggested that I might let you know the hour is after midnight."

"Uh huh," Tony said dismissively. Then he looked at Bruce and said, "Wait, you don't need to go to bed, do you?"

Bruce shook his head and stretched his arms out, one hand lingering at his throat. "I don't feel like I've been awake that long." Technically speaking, he hadn't. Tony had been awake for longer, but he was too excited about being back in his element to be bothered by something as mundane as sleep.

They finished a much more efficient and aesthetically-pleasing arc reactor by morning. Bruce had just finished swapping it into Tony's chest when the door unlocked. Bruce froze and lifted his hands over his head.

For a moment, Tony felt the urge to follow suit, but then he remembered, "Hey, no, Bruce, put your hands down, it's okay, it's just Pepper."

Bruce nodded and put his trembling hands down by his side. Pepper clicked her heels down the stairs, oblivious to Bruce's attempt at surrender. "Oh my god, were you two working all night? What _is_ that? Is that the thing that was in your chest?"

"An old model, yesterday's news," Tony said breezily. He pulled his T-shirt back on while Pepper picked up the old arc reactor and studied it. Bruce was frozen beside him. "Hey, Pepper, this is Bruce. Bruce, Pepper. She's my PA...I don't know what I'd do without her."

"Hi," Bruce said softly, not quite making eye contact.

Pepper approached him and offered a handshake, then retracted her hand after Bruce ignored it. "Bruce, it's nice to meet you. I—I'm so sorry for what you went through, and I—well, just let me know if I can do anything to help."

Bruce nodded, but his face still looked nervous.

Pepper glanced at Tony, who shrugged. Pepper smiled brightly. "Well, how about some breakfast? Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Tony said. Bruce nodded again.

"Okay! Great! What would you like? There's some fruit and yogurt, or eggs, or I got some bagels, or I could get waffles, or—"

Bruce burst into tears, surprising both Pepper, who'd only been trying to offer breakfast; and Tony, who hadn't seen Bruce cry at all during the three months they'd spent in captivity together.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," Pepper said. "I—should I go?" 

She gave Tony a look of _What did I do?_ He gave a return look of _I have no idea_ as he put an arm around Bruce. Bruce turned his face into Tony's shoulder and sobbed. "How about bagels?" Tony asked brightly. 

Pepper nodded and fled the garage, taking the old arc reactor with her.

"Sorry," she called over her shoulder.

Tony gently rubbed Bruce's upper back. "Hey, you don't have to eat breakfast if you don't want to. Hey, you're okay," he soothed, as Bruce sobbed so hard he could barely breathe. 

Finally, Bruce caught his breath. "Sorry," he mumbled, pulling away from Tony's shoulder, his face red.

"Nothing to apologize for." Tony guided Bruce over to the workshop's big leather couch and said, "Why don't you hang out here for a second and I'll go get some food from Pepper."

Bruce nodded, staring out into the middle distance with his knees to his chest. Tony gave him one last rub across the shoulders before heading upstairs.

In the kitchen, Pepper was distraught. "Tony, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Pepper, shh, you didn't do anything wrong. Bruce is just...overwhelmed. I mean, he was with the Ten Rings for over a year, he's not used to…"

"To what, breakfast?"

Tony grimaced as he thought about their meager rations.

"Oh god, what _did_ they feed you?" Now Pepper's eyes threatened to fill with tears.

"I...it's fine. I...I'm sure he'll just need some time to adjust."

"Uh huh. And what about you?"

"Me? I'm fine. I was barely there."

"You were gone for three months, Tony!"

"Hmm, was I? The time just flew by."

Pepper pursed her lips and gave Tony a hug. "Just...just let me know what I can do to help. Both of you. Or—if you want me to find somewhere else for Bruce—"

"No! Bruce stays here," Tony said, hating the idea of Pepper treating Bruce like one of Tony’s one-night stands. The thought of Bruce leaving, the thought of Tony sharing a bed with anyone else...unbearable. "Are there bagels or was that a cruel trap?"

"There are bagels," Pepper said, returning to her familiar fond-irritated smile. She handed him a platter loaded with bagels, spreads, and utensils. "I know this is enough food to last you awhile, but I hope you two will come up for air at some point."

"Uh huh," Tony said.

"Tony…"

"I'd rather stay busy." He took the bagels and said, "You're a lifesaver, Pep!"

Back in the garage, he offered the platter to Bruce, who stared at it blankly. "Fine, I'll pick first," Tony said cheerfully. He spread cream cheese on a chocolate chip bagel and started eating it. Bruce sat quietly for another moment before picking a bagel, seemingly at random, and taking a bite of it plain. That was frankly more alarming than the tears had been. 

"Bruce? You really want to eat that plain?"

"Hmm?" Bruce looked down at the bagel, which was from the _good_ bagel place, not that Bruce seemed to be appreciating that fact.

Tony gently pried the bagel out of Bruce's hand and applied cream cheese before handing it back to him. "Better?"

"Oh…thanks." Bruce ate the bagel slowly, showing no signs of enjoying it any more than he had when it was plain. "You should see a doctor."

"I saw you! I’m seeing you right now!"

"You should be on antibiotics. I can’t prescribe anything."

"Antibiotics?"

"To prevent infection. It’s just a good idea any time you’re putting foreign objects in your body."

 _Foreign objects._ Tony looked down at his chest, which glowed through his T-shirt. He knew he was lucky to be alive, but it was hard to wrap his head around the idea of having this thing inside him for the rest of his life. "Okay, write it down and I’ll have Pepper take care of it."

"Okay. But—but you should really see a doctor anyway. Get an EKG, just, uh, make sure everything is working right."

Tony shook his head. "No, I trust you," he said firmly. He couldn’t stand the idea of anyone else poking around inside him like that. 

"But—"

Tony cut him off. "So...uh, I have another project I wanted to start. You want to help?"

"Okay. If I can."

"You definitely can." Bruce might not have been an engineer, but he was brilliant and he could catch up. Tony began talking Bruce and JARVIS through his plans for the Mark II armor. Bruce was mostly quiet, which Tony was used to. But he participated and laughed at Tony's jokes, and Tony felt like that was an improvement over stunned silence and crying.

That afternoon, Pepper brought down lunch—this time without asking first—and said, conversationally, "Obie said you haven't been taking his calls."

"I've been busy," Tony replied.

"Well, I'm not sure how much longer I can hold him off. Could you please just meet with him? Or pick up the phone, at least?"

"Okay, okay," Tony said, but he was too excited about his project to think about his phone. Surely Obie could take care of things. That was his job, wasn't it?

By late evening, Tony's tiredness had moved into exhaustion. He thought about making another pot of coffee, but then he looked over at Bruce’s wan face and made the responsible decision that maybe they should take a break for the day.

"Ready for bed?" Tony asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Tony led Bruce to his guest room, and pointed out all the amenities Pepper had stocked it with, including clothes. "And, of course, if you need anything else, just ask JARVIS."

Bruce nodded. "Thanks, Tony. Good night."

"Sweet dreams. I'll see you in the morning."

Tony went up to his bedroom. He brushed his teeth, stripped down, and stretched out in his luxurious bed. For three months, he'd laid in that awful cot in that awful freezing cave and he'd dreamed about this bed, with its high thread count sheets and perfectly fluffed pillows and climate controlled by JARVIS. And now he was finally in it...and he couldn't sleep. He tossed and turned and got up to pour himself a drink, and when he finally fell asleep, he found himself right back in that cave, but this time he was all alone. 

He sat up in bed, gasping. At least he wasn't in the cave, but he was still alone.

He caught his breath and said, "J? Is...is Bruce awake?"

"Yes, sir. And if...I may say so, I believe he might benefit from a check-in."

"What? What do you mean? Is he okay?"

"He is physically unharmed."

Tony pulled on a pair of silk pajama pants and a Black Sabbath T-shirt and hurried down the hall. He stood outside Bruce's door and called, "Hey Bruce? Can I come in?"

After a pause, he heard Bruce softly call, "Okay."

JARVIS slid the door open, but the doorway was still blocked. Tony blinked for a moment before understanding that Bruce's mattress was leaned up against the door frame. Tony carefully pushed the mattress aside and stepped into the room. The lights were on but he didn't immediately see Bruce. He glanced around and spotted Bruce, wrapped in a blanket and sitting in the far corner with a newspaper that he didn't appear to be reading.

Tony crossed the room to sit down next to him. "You know," he said conversationally, "this house has much more sophisticated security measures than a mattress against the door."

Gravely, Bruce replied, "The benefits were psychological."

"Uh huh. And you didn't want to sleep on it?"

"It was...it didn't feel right," Bruce admitted, his eyes downcast.

"Yeah. I know how you feel." They sat quietly side by side for a moment. "You wanna get out of here?"

Bruce nodded, and Tony took him back down to the garage. Tony made a point of explaining his home security system to Bruce as they walked. They put in a few more hours working on the armor, and then they fell asleep spooned together on the workshop's big couch. It was still weirdly soft, but the closeness was comforting. 

He and Bruce fell into a daily routine—working on the suit until they couldn't keep their eyes open any longer and then passing out on the couch. Occasionally, they were both still visited by nightmares, but it was easier when they were together. They only visited their bedrooms to occasionally shower and change clothes. 

Pepper breezed in and out, bringing food and insisting that Obie and the CIA and the FBI and basically the entire alphabet really needed to talk to Tony. But Tony didn't want to talk to them, so he didn't. Occasionally he caught glimpses of the news, where another set of letters was being thrown around; the media had given him their armchair diagnosis of PTSD. But Tony was fine. He was just too busy to engage with any of that. As long as he was working, he didn't have to think about his company or what had happened to him or anything at all except for the project in front of him.

The best part of Tony's days were when he got the suit off the ground, even for short, erratic periods of time. Tony felt free when he could fly, and he felt safe when Bruce patched him up after his test flights identified room for growth. He was so grateful to have Bruce by his side for all of this, though he struggled with how best to make Bruce feel safe, the way Bruce made him feel. Bruce was sometimes so funny and insightful, and other times completely withdrawn. Tony realized that he didn’t have very much experience taking care of other people, which made him feel like an asshole. But he was sure he could figure it out if he put his mind to it. 

One morning he woke up and found Bruce sitting on the floor, headphones over his ears as he stared at his laptop. "Hey big guy, what are you working on?"

Bruce slammed the laptop shut and said, "Nothing."

Tony rolled his eyes and took the laptop. Bruce had been watching a video from a news site in some language with a squiggly font. But even without being able to hear the video or read the caption, Tony recognized the logo on the weapons. The weapons that were clearly being used against some innocent civilians.

"Bruce, what is that? What's happening? Is this new?"

"Just more of the same," Bruce said flatly.

Tony set his jaw. "I—Bruce, I shut down our weapons division the day we got back. I—I never authorized...I don't…" He watched another minute of silent footage of obviously terrified families and said, "I'm going to fix this."

Bruce nodded, but his expression was...distrustful. Tony couldn't stand it. He walked over to his own computer and spent a minute finding an English-language version of the story Bruce had been watching. It made him feel sick. "JARVIS, let's suit up."

The AI obliged while Bruce said, "Wait, Tony, what are you doing?"

"I'm fixing it. I'm going to go help those people."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"You helped me build this suit! What did you think it was for?"

"I...assumed the benefits were psychological."

"You thought we were spending weeks building a big shiny security blanket?" 

Bruce shrugged, and Tony was suddenly overcome with anger—at Bruce for judging him, at himself for being so stupid, at _whoever_ was putting his weapons in the wrong hands—and he took off.

"Tony!" Bruce called, but Tony was already gaining altitude. 

"JARVIS, set course for Gulmira."

"Sir, I might suggest that Dr. Banner's advice has some merit?"

"You might suggest it, but I will ignore it."

Tony's new suit worked better than he had imagined, and it felt so good to save those families, to know that he was definitely doing the right thing, even if he knew that it was just a drop in the ocean in the grand scheme of things. He took care of the terrorists, destroyed the weapons, escaped the Air Force (with a little help from Rhodey) and made it home in one piece (mostly).

When he got home the next morning, he found Bruce and Pepper sitting side by side on the workshop couch. Pepper had her laptop open and a phone to her ear; Bruce was staring into space with his knees to his chest.

After JARVIS and DUM-E helped him out of the suit, Pepper burst into action. "Tony, oh my god, what is this, are those bullet holes, what were you _thinking_?"

Bruce trailed behind her quietly. His expression was hard to read.

"I was thinking that I needed to make things right! I need to get to the bottom of this, and no one else seems to care that there's _corruption_ in my company, and _civilians are dying_ , and…"

Bruce silently offered Tony an ice pack, which Tony applied to his aching shoulder. Pepper said, "What, so, you're, what, some kind of vigilante now?"

"No! Maybe! I just...I don't know."

"Tony, I wish you'd talk to one of the therapists I found for you."

It was easy for Tony to ignore those requests when Bruce was so obviously doing worse than Tony was. Tony was fine. Tony was in control of his life. "Nothing's wrong with me, Pepper. Something was wrong with me before. I'm _fixing_ things now. Please, Pepper, please help me fix things. I need to get to the bottom of what's going on inside SI."

She eventually relented—Pepper really was the best—and he talked her through getting the information they'd need off of SI servers. 

She went off to do that, and Tony looked over at Bruce, who still hadn't said anything. "Hey, Bruce, did you miss me?"

Bruce shrugged and nodded, his eyes downcast. 

Tony said, "I—I needed to make things right."

Bruce said, "But what now?"

"I was thinking maybe a shower and a nap, to be honest."

"I mean for Afghanistan. I—there are bigger structural problems at play. You could talk to Congress. And you have _money_ , Tony, you could build a school in every village and still be a billionaire."

"They don't already have schools?"

Bruce stared at him like he was an idiot, which maybe he was, a little bit, in certain areas. Well, was it his fault if he was limited to English-language news sources? (Well, and theoretically French, though he never sought it out. What _were_ the French saying about SI?)

Bruce continued, "Anyway, the real cause of instability in the region is US intervention, so, maybe they didn't need any more of that?"

"Okay! Okay, it's a good point, Bruce, why don't we work on all of that stuff next? After a nap, though?" He was willing to bet that Bruce hadn't slept while Tony was away, and Tony was starting to come down from his adrenaline rush. 

Bruce crossed his arms and nodded.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs," Tony coaxed. He led them back to Tony's bedroom, where Tony showered and then stretched out on his king-size bed. Bruce sighed and lay down on his side, his back to Tony. Tony crept closer and put his arms around Bruce. The bed was still too big and too soft, but he wanted them to have a break from the garage, where the armor was. Besides, he hated that the terrorists had taken this from him. What right did they have? Tony had bought this very nice bed and he deserved to sleep in it. 

"Don't be mad," Tony said. "I was just trying to help."

"I'm—I just—I don't like violence."

"Yeah. Me neither." Bruce snorted, but Tony could feel him grow less tense. 

"I was worried about you," Bruce whispered, and they both fell asleep. 

When Tony awoke a few hours later, he was hungry and Bruce was still asleep. Bruce must have been exhausted. It was rare for either of them to sleep more than a few hours at a time. Tony carefully extricated himself from the bed and went to the kitchen. JARVIS said, "Sir, you have a number of urgent messages from Miss Potts."

Tony sighed. "Let me eat first, J. Can't ruin cold pizza with urgent messages."

He took the pizza out to the living room, enjoying the view of the sunset. He'd spent too much time down in the windowless garage lately. He took a bite of pizza and then Stane was suddenly looming over him with a sinister smile and a small device in his hand.

Tony recognized it—he'd invented it, he'd thought it could _save_ lives. Better to be temporarily paralyzed than dead, right? But now Tony was going to be both. He fell slack against the couch and could only listen in horror as Stane launched into a whole villain monologue about how tired he was of cleaning up after Tony's mess, how he couldn't believe that the Ten Rings had failed to kill Tony like he'd paid them to do, how pretty soon he'd been unstoppable, and then prepared to pull out Tony's chest plate. But then, just over Stane's shoulder, he saw—he saw something big and green. He would have cheered if he'd been able to move his mouth.

Hulk screamed and pulled Stane off of Tony. Hulk picked up Stane like he weighed nothing and threw him against the hardwood floor. He slammed Stane's head on the floor a few times, and Tony could see blood beginning to pool. Hulk paused his carnage for a moment. He looked at Tony, gave a guttural cry, and then abruptly jumped straight through the plate glass window onto the beach below. And Tony couldn't do a goddamn thing, not for another twelve agonizing minutes.

All he could do was think—think about how Stane, who'd been like a father to him, had betrayed him. Stane had threatened Pepper, too, saying she knew too much. Was she okay? What had she found out back at SI? Was Stane okay? Did Tony care if he wasn't? He seemed to be breathing, but there was rather a lot of blood. What if Stane woke up again before Tony's paralysis wore off? Was Bruce okay? Was Bruce right about the armor? What was going on between him and Bruce, anyway? 

Adding to Tony's mental stew, JARVIS began playing Pepper's messages for him. It was good to hear her voice, despite the distress she was in. She'd found Stane's files, she'd called for help, she was on her way back to Tony's house, she really wished that Tony would pick up his phone. Tony wished the same.

By the time motion had been restored to his limbs, Pepper and that bland government agent who'd approached him at his last press conference had come running in.

"Oh my god, Tony!" Pepper cried. "Are you okay? Why didn't you call me?"

"I was just, uh, a little incapacitated." Tony picked up the half-eaten slice of pizza that he'd dropped onto his lap and took another bite.

"What happened to the _window_? Where's Obie, Tony, he was the one who's been selling weapons, and he paid to have you _killed_ , and he—oh my god."

Tony winced as Pepper abruptly noticed Stane's body on the floor.

Agent What's-his-name bent down to check Stane's pulse. He typed out a message on his phone and said, "Mr. Stark, is it possible that you know the whereabouts of a Dr. Bruce Banner?"

"No idea," Tony said, which wasn't completely false. He had an _idea_ , sure, but he really wasn't sure how far Hulk could have gone in this time. He hoped he could find him later. Before this guy did.

The agent—Colton? Carleton?—sat down next to Tony. "Mr. Stark, I understand you've been through a lot. I think you and I are probably in a good position to help each other out right now."

"Yeah?" He stretched and finished his pizza. "Pepper, could you bring me a drink?"

She nodded. "Agent Coulson, do you want anything?" _Coulson_ , that was it.

"No, thank you, Ms. Potts."

Coulson opened a briefcase and tried to hand Tony a folder out of it. Tony refused to take it, and after a moment, Coulson spread its contents on the coffee table. "Mr. Stark, we'll clean things up, make sure that Obadiah Stane is secured, and we'll get amnesty for Dr. Banner. We just need you to read this statement."

"Amnesty?" Tony was intrigued despite himself. "For what? ...hypothetically speaking."

Coulson nodded. "There are some in the Army who believe that Dr. Banner stole some valuable property when he left General Ross's lab. They had expended a lot of resources trying to track him down and to keep that asset off the table. But there are others who understand that the property is...irretrievable." Tony understood that the "property" Coulson was referring to was Hulk himself, and he took a long sip from the Scotch that Pepper had brought him.

Coulson continued, "Fortunately, we here at SHIELD could clear up that misunderstanding, get Dr. Banner back on the grid. He'd be a free man, able to rejoin society as he liked. As long as he kept his alter ego under control, of course."

Tony took a deep breath. "If...if you know all about this, and you can fix it, you should do it."

"Mm-hmm, and I'd like to, I really would. But our primary goal at SHIELD is to keep the American people safe...to keep the world safe. We need to tamp down any...unauthorized vigilante activity. So...for the public good, we need you to read this statement at a press conference. We need this statement to be the truth. And once that's taken care of, well, then our resources should be free to help Dr. Banner."

Tony sipped his drink. He looked back at Pepper, who gave him a pleading look. He looked over at Stane and saw that a team of black-suited men had already arrived and were carting him off on a stretcher. He thought about how incredible it had felt to wear the armor, to help people. He thought about Bruce's disappointment, about Hulk's heroism. He thought about how empty his house would feel if Bruce went on the run.

"Fine," Tony said. "It was, what, a training accident?"

Coulson smiled. "Very good, Mr. Stark. We'll have a press conference tomorrow morning at 10AM." He packed up his briefcase, leaving the statement on the table. "I'll be in touch."

He left, and Pepper said, "Tony, oh my god, I can't believe Obie would do something like this, he...oh, I'm so glad you're okay."

"Yeah. No, yeah, you too. Hey, uh, JARVIS, do you know where Bruce...Hulk went?"

"I've been monitoring him via a network of state park and private beach house security cameras," JARVIS answered. "He's heading north, along the coastline. Rather quickly."

Tony nodded. "Thanks, J." He stood up from the couch and went down to the garage, Pepper following behind him.

"Tony? Tony, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

"I gotta go get Bruce."

"You—should you be driving?"

"I only had one drink. I'm fine. Hey, can you get someone to come fix that window? And, uh, the floor..."

"Tony…" She hugged him. "Yes. Be careful. And don't forget about your press conference tomorrow."

He nodded and drove north along the 1, getting input from JARVIS via Bluetooth as he drove. It seemed that Hulk had stopped running and found shelter in a rocky cove, not too far from Mugu Canyon. Tony found a parking spot at the empty state park and ducked under a metal barrier that proclaimed the beach closed at dusk. He found Hulk sitting with his knees curled up to his chest and staring out at the water, his posture similar to Bruce's when he was upset.

"Hey, Big Green," Tony called.

Hulk turned to look at him, but he said nothing.

"It's me. Tony. A friend."

"Friend," Hulk said cautiously.

"Yes! A friend. You saved my life, you know. Again. Thank you."

"Hulk tired."

"I bet you are, you ran really far. You want to come home and sleep?"

Hulk considered this for a moment and then began to shrink back down into Bruce. Bruce kept his knees-to-chest posture and buried his face in his knees. Tony wished he'd thought to bring clothes for Bruce, but he pulled his sweatshirt off and draped it over Bruce's shoulders.

"Hey, Bruce, it's good to see you."

"Tony, I'm sorry," Bruce said miserably.

Tony let out a disbelieving laugh. "Sorry for what? You saved my life. Again."

"What about...the last thing I remember, before I changed, there was a...man...he was…"

"Hulk knocked him out, so I could escape. But he's not dead." He thought Bruce would be glad to know that. "They arrested him."

Bruce exhaled. "I…I'm so tired."

Tony was struck with the sudden impulse to kiss Bruce, there on the beach in the moonlight. He swallowed and said, "Why don't you come home and we'll go to bed?"

Bruce sighed. "I—I really need to leave. As soon as possible. Something like this, so public...I'm sure word will get to Ross."

"Actually, I have some good news about that. C'mon, I'll tell you about it in the car." Bruce looked at him warily, but he followed Tony back to the car. Tony found an old beach towel in the trunk and offered it to Bruce, who wrapped it around his waist.

As he drove, Tony gave Bruce an edited version of Coulson's offer, trying not to make it sound too much like blackmail. Bruce took a deep breath. "How did he know I was here?"

"I mean...you did turn big and green and jump through my window."

Bruce accepted that point with a half-nod. "And you trust him?"

"I...I don't know. But it's worth looking into, right? It would be better than going on the run?"

"Yeah. No. It's just…"

Bruce trailed off, and Tony looked over to see that Bruce had fallen asleep mid-sentence, his head slumped against the car window. Tony smiled to himself. When they got back to the house, he pulled into the garage and left Bruce asleep in the car. Tony sat at his work table in the garage with his laptop and started digging into whatever he could find out about SHIELD. 

At some point, Pepper came downstairs with a cup of coffee. "Did you find him?"

"Oh, yeah, he fell asleep in the car so I figured I'd just let him rest. I guess changing like that takes a lot out of him."

"Good. I...I think you're making the right call, Tony."

"Yeah? You trust that guy Coulson?"

She nodded. "He listened to me, and he really did seem worried about you."

Tony considered. Pepper was usually a good judge of character, her tolerance for Tony notwithstanding. "And what happened with Ob—Stane?" He couldn't believe he used to have a cute nickname for the guy who'd tried to have him killed.

"They took him away, he'll get medical treatment, and then...I don't know, I guess he'll go to trial? There should be plenty of evidence against him."

"Hmm."

"I think SHIELD took the suit he was making." Pepper shook her head. "Agent Coulson and I saw it, it was _huge_. But ugly, way uglier than yours."

Tony thought again about the offer Coulson was making him. Bruce's freedom in exchange for Tony giving up his beautiful armor. There was no question, was there? He turned it over in his head and said, "Pepper, you should get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning for the, uh, press conference." 

"Good night, Tony. You should get some sleep, too."

"Mm-hmm."

Tony was still trying to read up on SHIELD when Bruce stumbled out of the car, barefoot and wrapped in a beach towel. His curly hair was in disarray, and he looked at Tony from below adorably furrowed eyebrows. Tony smiled at the sight. Of course giving up the armor was worth getting to keep Bruce. "Hey, Bruce."

Bruce rubbed his neck and nodded. "Hey."

"I didn't want to wake you."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Tony closed his browser window and said, "Let's go upstairs. You can get some clothes and maybe we can both get some sleep?"

"Okay."

Tony hadn't actually thought he'd be able to sleep, but all the adrenaline abruptly left his body and he found that he was exhausted. He got a few hours of sleep before JARVIS woke him up to get ready for the press conference. Bruce was already awake, quietly sitting up in bed and reading a book.

Tony showered and put on a suit. Bruce watched him as he headed toward the door and Tony said, "Hey, I'll be back in an hour or so, okay? I'm just going to go deny any knowledge of the armor and any unusual events in the area last night. You know, typical media coverup, can't trust a word you read in the papers these days."

Bruce nodded, and something compelled Tony to say, in a tone that was light enough to be construed as joking if needed, "How about a kiss for good luck?"

Bruce looked at him sharply, and Tony was about to say "Just kidding," when Bruce climbed out of bed and crossed the room to him. Bruce put his hands on Tony's shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck," he said.

Tony grinned and felt very lucky as he headed for SI, where he hugged Rhodey and gave a very boring press conference, where he read the dumb statement Coulson had prepared and took no questions, where he gave up on the idea of being some kind of vigilante superhero. Afterward, Coulson gave him a handshake and a manila folder full of documents for Bruce. "We'll be in touch, Mr. Stark."

For Bruce's sake, Tony clutched the folder and bit back any retort he might have otherwise made. He went home and found Bruce on the couch in the garage, watching the aftermath of Tony's press conference. Commentators definitely found something suspicious about Tony's statement, but they seemed willing enough to move on to more interesting celebrity gossip.

He settled on the couch next to Bruce and said, "Hey, Bruce, wanna go out for lunch?"

Bruce turned wide eyes on Tony. Tony grinned and tossed him the folder. "You've got an ID now, in case they card you."

Bruce ran his fingers over the documents, inspecting the hologram on the drivers' license. He offered Tony a tentative smile, but said nothing.

Tony continued, "C'mon, we'll go to this little cafe up the road, sit out on the patio. It's a nice day out. I figure it can be a business lunch, while you help me figure out what kinds of projects the Stark Foundation should focus on in the Middle East."

Bruce's smile grew. "Yeah?"

Tony nodded. "Yeah. I mean, somebody told me I could build a school in every village, so I figure I should maybe start with that?"

"Sounds good. I'll, uh, just change clothes."

"You look fine, it's not a date."

"Oh." Bruce's smile faded.

Tony added hastily, "But I was hoping I could take you out to _dinner_ tonight as a date? You know, business before pleasure and all that?" Bruce smiled, then, a wide, joyful smile that transformed his face, and Tony said, "Wait, is it too late for me to reverse that?"

"Yes," Bruce said. "Think of the children."

Tony pouted. "Well, I was going to ask if I could at least kiss you, but now it's weird."

"Everything is weird," Bruce said. He leaned slightly closer to Tony.

"That's a very good point, actually," Tony said. He closed the gap between them and kissed Bruce. Bruce melted against him with a soft sigh. For a few blissful moments, only the two of them existed. Then Bruce froze and pulled away, and Tony registered the sound of Pepper's heels on the stairs.

"Oh! Oh, uh, sorry to interrupt, I…"

"We're having an important business meeting, Pepper," Tony said.

"Uh huh."

"Actually, shouldn't Pepper come too?" Bruce asked. "If we're going to be working on projects for the Stark Foundation?"

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I guess she should." It was both very charming and slightly frustrating that Bruce was taking this task so seriously right now.

"What are you talking about?" Pepper asked.

"About taking the company in a different direction," Tony said. "Like we've been talking about. No time like the present, right?"

Pepper glanced between the two of them and said, "Well. Okay, then."

The three of them went out to a long lunch and made ambitious plans for capacity-building aid in the Middle East, starting with Gulmira. It was hard for Tony to stay focused, given how adorable Bruce was when he was talking about issues he was passionate about, but Tony managed to keep it together. For the children. Afterward, Pepper went back to SI, and Bruce and Tony went back home, where Tony was very excited to talk to Bruce about pressing issues besides child mortality. Unfortunately, his plans were disrupted when they found a man with an eyepatch waiting for them in the garage.

Beside him, Bruce grew very still and began taking deep, measured breaths. Tony squeezed his hand and said, "Who are you and what are you doing here? How did you even get in here?"

The stranger raised his hands up in friendly surrender. "I'm Nick Fury, director of SHIELD. I'm here to talk to you both about the Avengers Initiative. Seriously, Dr. Banner, I don't mean you any harm, so it would be great if you could keep your alter ego in check."

Bruce swallowed and nodded.

Tony kept hold of Bruce's hand and said, "Okay. What's the Avengers Initiative?"

Fury smiled and said, "Have a seat." And Tony obeyed, even though he was annoyed at being told what to do in his own home. Bruce followed suit.

Tony listened closely as Fury explained the initiative and then he blurted out, "So you're saying I could keep my suits?"

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Of course, Mr. Stark. Our issue is not with...superheroes. Our issue is with _vigilantes_. I'm asking both of you to...be on call. Your country...the world...may have need for your...abilities."

Bruce crossed his arms. "The Hulk isn't a superhero."

Fury smiled. "Be that as it may, his abilities may come in handy one day. As might yours. The world has always relied on scientific advancements in times of need."

"And what if we say no?" Bruce asked. "Are you going to give me to Ross?"

Fury shook his head. "Oh, Dr. Banner, I think that would just cause another mess for SHIELD to clean up, don't you? No, no, I'm not here to threaten you. Just to...make contact."

"Right," Bruce muttered.

"I think we all want the same thing, don't we? A more peaceful world?" Fury asked.

Bruce nodded hesitantly, and Tony said, "I suppose so."

"I'm so glad we're in agreement. I'll be in touch if I find that your services would be useful," Fury said. He stood up and offered each of them a very firm handshake. Then he strolled over and thoughtfully admired Tony's latest suit of armor. "I'll show myself out."

Fury left, leaving Tony to start wondering where the weakness in his security system was. He'd have to look into that. For now, though, he turned to Bruce. "You okay?"

"I...I guess so, yeah."

Tony nodded. "Hey, you remember, awhile ago, you told me you wished you could be laying on a beach somewhere?"

Bruce's lips twitched. He'd said it when they were in a cave halfway around the world. "Sure."

"Well, you know, we're right above the beach and I don't think it's fair that Hulk has spent more time on it than you have."

Bruce smiled. Tony continued, "C'mon. Beach day? Beach afternoon, really? We've already done _so_ much work today. We deserve a break."

"Yeah, okay," Bruce agreed.

Tony grabbed towels and trunks for them. He thought about it and grabbed sunglasses and water bottles, proud of his foresight. They changed quickly. Fortunately, Bruce had been steadily gaining weight back in the weeks since getting back from Afghanistan, so he no longer looked so fragile without a shirt on. He looked...good.

Together, they made their way down the steep stairs to Tony's private beach. They spread out their towels beneath a big umbrella and set out their supplies, and Bruce waded out into the water. Tony followed him, up to about waist height. He stopped and watched as Bruce swam in a slow circle. Bruce looked so at peace. Then he looked over at Tony and a realization seemed to dawn over his face.

"Hey," Bruce said. "You okay?"

"Fine," Tony said. "Just—you know, my favorite part of the beach is mostly just like sitting on the sand and having drinks with little umbrellas in them." This had not been the case until very recently, but he simply couldn't imagine putting his face under the water just yet. 

Bruce swam back over to him and took his hand. "That sounds nice."

Tony sighed with relief as Bruce led them back onto the shore. He was safe here with Bruce. They lay side by side on their big towels, and Tony felt extremely self-conscious about the plate in his chest. He wished he'd brought a rash guard to cover it.

Then Bruce reached over and gently cupped Tony's cheek in his palm. "Tony, you're so...amazing," he said dreamily.

Tony smiled. "Takes one to know one," he said, and then he pulled Bruce toward him for a kiss. They kissed, and kissed, and then Bruce curled up on Tony's chest, beneath the arc reactor, and fell asleep. Tony stroked Bruce's hair. His world was so much better now that Bruce was in it. He looked forward to working with Bruce to make sure that the world was better for everyone else, too. But first, Tony drifted into a nap of his own, feeling more at peace than he had for a long time.


End file.
